Scarlet
by RaspberryGirl
Summary: On his way to meet his betrothed, Prince Coren angers the fairy Marielle and is put under a horrible curse. With the help of a peasant girl, Scarlet, he must find the legendary magic cloak or be turned into a wolf forever. Little Red Riding Hood retelling
1. St Jordan

Author's Note: I've always wanted to rewrite a classic fairy tale to give it more depth. So I picked _Little Red Riding Hood_ because there's too many _Cinderella_ and _Snow White_ and _Beauty and the Beast_ retellings already.

**Scarlet**

By: RaspberryGirl

"Peter!" A girl darted up the hillside, scattering a herd of grazing sheep. The wind tugged at her skirt and ruffled her bright chestnut hair. "Peter," she called again. The girl danced up to the young man sitting under the shade of a young sapling. Her green eyes sparkled.

The young man stared at the girl in surprise. "Scarlet! What are you doing here?"

The girl smiled mischievously and settled down next to Peter. "I came to help you."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Meaning you slipped away from your house—and your chores—once again. Martha will be angry."

Scarlet scowled. "I thought you said tending the sheep by yourself was lonely."

"It is."

"But," Scarlet teased, "I'm not the company you wanted." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You want...you want"—the name slipped from her mouth before the girl could stop herself—"Rosalind."

Peter flushed and turned away. "Don't jest."

Vexed with his ill humor, Scarlet said nothing more and gazed into the distance. A gentle breeze stirred the grass, creating a green ripple like a wave in the ocean. The yellow daffodils that grew near the bottom of the hill stirred, and the sheep bleated softly as they wandered. The air was heavy with moisture, and the sky was becoming gray and overcast.

A drop of rain landed on Scarlet's cheek.

"I think we should head back," Peter murmured. He stood, staring up into the sky. "It could start pouring any moment now."

As if in agreement, lightening flashed and more raindrops fell.

Peter began rounding up his sheep. Scarlet was about to help when something caught her eye. A large caravan was hurriedly making its way towards the town. A lavishly dressed figure on a white horse rode at the front of the convoy, flanked by two guards. Following this rider were two attendants and a procession of three, heavily laden wagons covered in burlap cloth. Six more guards escorted the caravan.

"Scarlet!" A woman with long, tangled hair emerged from the direction of the woods like a specter. The woman's face was smudged with dirt, and the edge of her skirt was ripped and soaked as if she'd dragged it through mud. A wreath of wild roses adorned her brown curls. She caught sight of Scarlet, and her expression twisted into a wide-eyed look of surprise. "Elise!" the woman cried. "What are you doing here, dearest? I thought you were at home. Where's Scarlet? Have you seen her?"

"Mother," the girl said, exasperated. "_I'm _Scarlet."

The woman's brow furrowed in confusion. She wrought her hands, fidgeting and muttering to herself. Then, "Yes, that's right. How silly of me. Of course you're Scarlet." She took her daughter's face in both hands, staring into the green eyes quizzically, as if Scarlet were some puzzle she had never been able to solve. Then, abruptly, Scarlet's mother turned her attention to the young shepherd.

"Peter!" the woman cried. She beamed.

"Josephine." Peter returned her smile courteously. "It's good to see you."

"Yes," said Josephine. She began twirling happily as a light drizzle started.

"Mother." Scarlet caught Josephine by the hands, forcing her to stop. "We have to hasten home. It's raining."

Josephine frowned, trying to twist away. "But I like the rain," she protested. "If you want to catch a glimpse of the Fair Folk, you must search for their ring of white mushrooms when it rains."

"How nice." Scarlet tugged at Josephine as she and Peter began making their way hastily towards St. Jordan. The sheep bleated in protest as they were herded down the hill. "Come, Mother."

Josephine obeyed, humming an old ballad about the Fair Folk's court. "One day," she murmured to herself, "I'll meet the Queen of the Fairies and she'll grant my heart's desire."

The trio reached Peter's home, a solitary house on the outer edge of St. Jordan. Josephine broke away, keeping ahead of Scarlet and Peter. For a moment, Peter watched Josephine with an amused expression, then turned to Scarlet. "Well, take care," he said.

"Yes. Thank you. I will." Scarlet suddenly felt awkward. She chose her next words carefully. "Peter, you should c-come tonight. For dinner, that is. Which is t-tonight. I mean..." Scarlet stopped, feeling like an idiot. "What I _meant_ to say is that Father is going away on business tomorrow. And Martha always makes a big meal before he leaves s-so I was thinking...since there's going to be so many dishes...that you...you..."

Peter smiled. "Of course I'll come."

Scarlet was delighted. "Really?"

"Really."

"_When the red leaves slowly drift away, when the Fairy Queen comes riding..._" sang Josephine, further down the road.

Mumbling a flustered "farewell," Scarlet hurried after Josephine. The rose-wreathed woman snickered as her daughter caught up with her. "You're blushing," Josephine said pointedly.

"No, I'm not," Scarlet retorted, beginning to flush even more.

"Yes, you are," Josephine insisted, walking backwards so she faced her daughter. She rubbed her chin and stared up at the sky with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Dear me, Peter would make a fine husband."

"No one said anything about husbands!" Scarlet said defensively. She began walking faster.

Josephine didn't seem to hear. "The Fairy Queen had many lovers," she piped. "They say she's so beautiful that the sun burned with envy, and the moon turned pale with jealousy. Scarlet, did you know—" Josephine stopped mid-sentence just as they reached their house. She stared down St. Jordan's main road.

Scarlet followed her mother's gaze. Just coming into town was the caravan she'd seen earlier.

"Ooh," cooed Josephine, clapping her hands together. "Look over there! It's the Fairy Prince come to visit St. Jordan!"

Scarlet made frantic motions for her mother to hush, but it was too late. The sound of Josephine's voice had already reached the ears of the caravan's foremost guards. Catching sight of the two women, they started towards them.

"Look! Look!" Josephine was practically jumping up and down with excitement. "They're coming this way!" She pranced behind her daughter, trying to hide behind the girl. "Oh! Don't let them see me like this! Not the Fairy Prince! Don't let him see me!" Josephine cowered behind Scarlet, trying to fix the roses in her hair, but only succeeded in making her sodden locks more disheveled.

"You!" The caravan had reached them.

"Yes?" Rainwater dripping down her face, Scarlet faced the strangers. She tried to look pleasant. "May I help you?"

The guard eyed Scarlet with contempt. "Is this the town of St. Jordan?"

"Yes," said Scarlet. She added, just for politeness' sake, "Sir."

The guard grunted. His eyes fixed on Scarlet's mother. Josephine squealed and crouched on the ground. She buried her face in her knees and put her hands over her head, rocking back and forth.

The guard's expression turned into an apprehensive grimace; his companion muttered something under his breath. Nevertheless, the guard continued, "If this is St. Jordan, then where are the townsfolk?"

"Inside their homes, sir," said Scarlet. "It _is _raining." She gave a thin smile. By this time, Scarlet was so drenched that it looked as if she'd taken a swim in a lake, clothes and all.

The guard blinked as lightening flashed again, splitting the sky with its blazing streaks. Thunder followed closely, a series of deafening booms like a giant pounding on a drum. The rain intensified.

"My," said Scarlet, her smile becoming strained. "We're all getting quite wet."

The guard glowered at her. "Is there an inn here?"

"No, sir."

The guard's face puckered as if he'd just swallowed something extremely unpleasant. "Where do you live, girl? His Excellency needs a place to stay to wait out this blasted weather. If you make us guests in your house—provided that you're not a pauper—I'm sure His Excellency will be willing to pay you for your trouble."

"Ooh," said Josephine. "Fairy gold."

The guard ignored her. He spoke to Scarlet again. "Well?"

Scarlet appraised the caravan. "His Excellency" was probably the young man on the white horse. The girl stole a brief glance at him. The young man's face was scrunched into a miserable expression as his attendants desperately tried to hold a cloak over him. His red velvet hat with the white feather plume drooped dolefully with the weight of the rainwater.

"Ah. How convenient." Scarlet gestured to her house. "I happen to live right here."

"A tailor's shop?" The guard's tone wasn't flattering.

"Only in the front," Scarlet said. "You're all welcome to stay if you like. You'll have to use the public stables in the common house." She pointed towards the town square. "It's that way."

The guard acknowledged this with a curt nod then cast a nervous glance at the young man. "Your Highness," he murmured, "please go with this girl and dry up first. A thousand apologies, Your Highness, that you had to..."

Scarlet turned away, annoyed. She grasped her mother by the arm and helped her up. The girl was just about to reach for the door when it flew open by itself.

A short, plump woman stood in the doorway. Her graying hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her beady eyes nearly bulged out in surprise at seeing Scarlet and her mother. "Scarlet! Josephine!" She regarded their soaked garments in horror. "Saints above! Whatare you two doing standing in the rain?"

Scarlet sighed. She and her mother stepped into the house as the plump woman continued to fuss over them. "I was wondering where you two went," she remarked, looking displeased. "And I was just about to go out and look for you. Really, Scarlet, I thought you knew better!" The plump woman turned to Josephine, regarding the roses in the woman's hair suspiciously. With a cry, she pounced on Scarlet's mother, grabbing Josephine's hand and bringing it close to her face. "Ha!" The gray-haired woman pointed an accusing finger at the dirt underneath Josephine's fingernails. "Josephine, you went into the woods again! And after I _told _you not to!"

Scarlet's mother let out a wail. "But...but...the Fair Folk said—"

"Never mind what they said!" the plump woman cried.

"Mother, Martha," Scarlet interrupted tiredly, "this really isn't the time. We have guests."

For the first time, Martha seemed to notice the young man and his attendant standing just inside the doorway of the house. "Oh!" she squeaked, taken aback. "I—I apologize." Trying to hide her embarrassment, Martha shuffled over and closed the door. She assessed the young man in a sweeping glance, taking in the fine clothes and handsome face. "What business brings you here to St. Jordan, my lord?"

The young man did not reply, but his eyes revealed his distaste. His gaze finally settled on Josephine. "What is wrong with that woman?" he asked coldly.

Martha blinked. Josephine retreated further into the house, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide in a guilty fashion as if she'd let a bad word slip.

"What's wrong with her?" The young man repeated, louder, as if Scarlet and Martha were hard of hearing.

Martha finally spoke. "J-josephine?" She began making fumbling motions with her hands. "Well, you see, she...she..."

"Nothing's wrong with her," Scarlet broke in. She narrowed her eyes at the young man. "What's wrong with _you_?"

For a moment, there was a discomforting silence as the young man and Scarlet glared at each other.

In a low, dangerously even voice, the young man asked, "Do you know who I am, girl?"

"I don't particularly care," answered Scarlet.

A sarcastic smile flickered across the young man's lips. "Ah, but would you say that so lightly if I told you I was the Prince of Terrallis himself?"


	2. The Arrival of the Prince

**Scarlet  
**  
By: RaspberryGirl  
  
Scarlet's mouth fell open. The Prince! She'd only thought he was some lesser lord, but...to think! He was the Prince! Scarlet tried to keep her face blank, her pride winning against her common sense. "You're—"

"Prince Coren!" Martha fell down on her knees, trembling. "Your Highness! Forgive us for being so rude! We didn't know, we never suspected—"

The Prince waved Martha's words away in a dismissive manner. He looked at Scarlet peculiarly as if wondering why she wasn't down on the floor with Martha, groveling.

Stubbornly, Scarlet put her hands on her hips. "I don't care who you are. And since I've already said you and your men are welcome here, I will not go back on my word." She pursed her lips. "No matter how tempting it is."

"Scarlet!" Martha looked appalled. "Show more respect to your Prince!" The plump woman turned to Coren. "Please, Your Highness, if there's anything you'd like, just let me know." The young man gave an accepting nod, and Martha stood up, flustered. "I'm sorry Your Highness had to stand so long in those wet clothes. I'll fetch some dry garments right away." Martha turned to Scarlet. "Take Josephine upstairs and change."

Just as Scarlet nodded, the door opened and a man with red-brown hair entered the house. A cloak slick with rainwater was thrown about his shoulders, and a cloth bundle was tucked under his arm. The man raised his eyebrows as he noticed the two strange faces among the three familiar ones.  
  
"And who may you be?" the man inquired, wiping at his mustache and beard.

"Master Ivan!" Martha hurried to take the man's wet cloak. "Master Ivan"—Martha gestured to the Prince—"this is His Highness, the heir of Terrallis, Prince Coren." Martha turned to the Prince. "And this, Your Highness, is Master Ivan, St. Jordan's tailor, the owner of this house."

"He's my father," Scarlet interrupted. "And this"—Scarlet linked arms with Josephine—"is my mother."

Coren's face twisted in astonishment and Scarlet felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Smiling smugly, the girl spun around and left the entrance hall before Ivan could question her on the soggy state of her clothing.

Once upstairs, Scarlet helped her mother change first. After she was done, Scarlet took off her own garments and pulled on a maroon-colored kirtle and a white tunic. Twisting her hair back into a long braid, the girl headed downstairs.

Catching drift of conversing voices, Scarlet stepped quietly into the parlor to find her father, the Prince, his servant, and many of the townsmen gathered by the unlit hearth. The Prince had changed into plainer clothes.Candlelight played over his honey-colored hair and golden eyes, making him handsomer than ever. He couldn't have been more than seventeen years old—only a year older than Scarlet. But as Prince Coren made little effort to stifle a yawn as one of the townsmen spoke eagerly to him about shoemaking, Scarlet fought down a surge of annoyance.

Ivan, however, didn't seem to mind Coren at all. He sat comfortably in his armchair, inspecting the quality of the spools of thread and buttons he'd brought back in the bundle. Once in a while, he'd comment on something, but most of the time, he let others do the talking.

Josephine sat on the floor by Ivan, playing with wilting flowers and singing about a maiden and her unrequited love. Coren kept casting her nervous looks.

"Scarlet." The girl turned to find Martha beckoning to her from the kitchen. "Help me with the food, will you?"

Scarlet obeyed, stirring a pot of stew as Martha added celery, carrots, and various spices. "What are they talking about that's making the Prince look so bored?" the girl asked.

Martha chuckled. "Business and crops. And daughters."

"Daughters?"

"The Prince comes to town, so of course all the merchants and farmers will be speaking well of their daughters."

"I see." A sudden thought occurred to Scarlet. "And Father, too?"

Martha smiled. "No."

"Good."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Martha paused in her cooking, turning to face Scarlet with a perplexed expression. "What do you mean by always running off in the middle of your chores? The mending still needs to be finished."

Scarlet sighed.

Martha put a hand to her hip. "You will finish the task tomorrow, no arguments, no exceptions, is that clear? And if you run off one more time during your chores to see Peter, your father will hear about it." Martha paused. "That _is_ where you've been going, I presume?"

Scarlet fidgeted.

"You can always visit Peter after you've done your duties," Martha said firmly. Wiping her hands on her apron, she handed the girl a small spoon. "Scarlet, be a dear and sample the stew for me. How does it taste?"

The girl did so. "It's delicious."

"Excellent." Satisfied, Martha busied herself with the new task of chopping cabbage. "By the way, Scarlet, the whole town already knows of the Prince's arrival. Everyone wants to meet him. That's why we'll be eating at the common house tonight. Along with the rest of St. Jordan."

Skeptically, Scarlet eyed the array of dishes Martha was preparing. "And the town expects us to provide all the food?"

"Heavens, no!" Martha exclaimed. "No, tonight's event is more like a town potluck."

"A potluck." Scarlet's tone was sarcastic. Her eyes flitted to the Prince who now seemed to be half-asleep. "I'm sure 'His Highness' will be very impressed."

Martha frowned and was about to reply when a high-pitched squeal interrupted her.

"Elise!" The voices in the sitting room momentarily fell silent—and Scarlet was sure she saw the Prince jerk in his seat—as Josephine suddenly jumped up and ran through the group of men towards her daughter. "Elise, is that you? Elise!" Reaching Scarlet, Josephine grabbed the girl's arm. "Elise, where have you been? I haven't seen you all day!" Josephine held up one of her dying flowers to Scarlet's hair admiringly. "You won't believe who I saw on that hill with Peter today."

"Who, Mother?" Scarlet didn't even bother to correct Josephine this time; it would've only confused her mother who always thought her firstborn child was still alive.

"Scarlet!" Josephine burst out happily.

The girl felt her cheeks redden. "How—how interesting." She tried to appear indifferent as if this was just a part of Josephine's fancied babbling.

"Oh, Elise!" sighed Josephine, taking Scarlet's hands in hers. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if they got married?"

"If who got married?"

Scarlet started, letting out a squeak of surprise. Josephine put her arms protectively around her daughter and scolded, "Now look at what you've done, Peter. Don't startle Elise like that." Josephine turned back to Scarlet, smoothing strands of the girl's hair. "Now that I think about it, you've never told me who you like, Elise. Do tell Mother some time."

Scarlet nodded, feeling her ears beginning to burn. Dreamily, Josephine waltzed out of the kitchen and disappeared down a hallway of the house.

Taking a deep breath, Scarlet turned and faced Peter.

"What was she talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing," Scarlet mumbled. She stared up at him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Peter was five years older than Scarlet and more than a head taller. Most of the time, his ebony hair was wind-swept and unkempt. He wasn't flawlessly handsome, but behind those smoky gray eyes he seemed to hold a wonderful secret.

"You came," said Scarlet softly. To some, Peter's cheekbones may have been too sharp, his chin too broad; but to Scarlet, he was perfect.

"You invited me," Peter replied with a grin. He glanced at the assembly gathered in the parlor. "Perhaps I've come at a bad time?"

"No!" Scarlet shook her head fervently. "No, not at all."

Peter surveyed the guests. He stared at the Prince, who, at the moment, wore an expression that said, _Once I return to the castle, remind me to send guards to burn this town down_. "Who is that?"

"Someone very unpleasant."

"Scarlet!" Martha gave the girl a reprimanding look. "What in heaven's name is the matter with you?" The housekeeper turned to the young man apologetically. "Ignore her, Peter. For some reason she seems to be in an extremely disagreeable mood today. And as for who that young man is, he's the Prince." Peter's eyes widened, and Martha smiled proudly. "Prince Coren."

"Like I said," Scarlet put in, "he's someone you don't want to meet."

Peter gave a small laugh, but Martha looked offended. "Scarlet, that's quite enough out of you!" She handed the girl a tray of breadsticks. "Make yourself useful and help me move some of the dishes to the common house. Help her if you'd like, Peter."

Scarlet made a face, but waited as Peter scooped up a bowl of salted eggs before stepping outside and setting off.

The rain had ceased, and everything had become shiny and slippery. One main road slithered through St. Jordan, branching off into smaller alleys and eventually leading to the town square. Bordering a part of the square was the common house: a long, rectangular, public building where town feasts and festivities were usually held. Scarlet could already see townsfolk hurrying to and from the building, their hands full of dishes and their faces flushed with excitement.

"So," said Peter, "that's what the commotion's all about. The Prince has come to St. Jordan."

"Hardly something to get ecstatic over," Scarlet remarked. She entered the common house with the shepherd.

"Peter?"

Scarlet stiffened at the sound of that voice. To her right, a young woman had been arranging flowers in tall vases, but she'd stopped when she saw Scarlet and Peter. The young woman gave a small, hesitant smile. "Scarlet."

"Rosalind!" Scarlet couldn't help but notice the joy in Peter's voice as he said her name. Seeming to forget all else, Peter started towards the young woman.

Scarlet bit her lip. Peter was smiling at Rosalind. A gnawing pain was starting to grow in Scarlet's chest. She stared at the flower-seller, trying to keep her dislike from showing on her face. True, Rosalind was pretty; she had wavy curls like gold silk and lips like the blush of a pink rose, but Scarlet was sure Peter had never been the sort who judged by looks.

Scarlet watched them enviously, feeling abandoned.

"How are you, Peter?" Rosalind flashed a dazzling smile. "Have you been well?"

"Very well," Peter replied, his eyes locked on hers.

_Perhaps it's my age_, Scarlet thought. Rosalind was two years older than Scarlet, and as the girl watched Peter and Rosalind, she felt like a child dabbling in an adult's game.

Meanwhile, Rosalind had broken from Peter's gaze and had returned to arranging her flowers.

"Here." Gently, Peter picked out a red rose from Rosalind's pile of blossoms and offered it to her.

"Thank you." Rosalind accepted the flower. A flicker of emotion, too fast to read, passed over her face before she turned and said, "Scarlet, have you also been well?"

There was no answer.  
  
Author's Note: I know, I know. This chapter was a little slow, but I was aiming for some character and setting depth.


	3. Tales in the Common House

**Scarlet**  
  
By: RaspberryGirl  
  
Scarlet ran from the common house and across the town square. Tears stung her eyes as she splashed through puddles of dirty rainwater, not caring if mud squished into her shoes or clung to the hem of her skirt.

How long would it take for Peter to notice that she was gone?

_Probably never_, Scarlet thought bitterly. _Not while Rosalind's there_.

Scarlet slowed down to an aimless walk, feeling as if the life had been sucked out of her. Eventually she found herself standing in front of her father's shop. The girl sank down by the door, burying her face in her drawn-up knees. She could already feel a cold wetness creeping into her back. Drops of water dripped from the roof and into her hair. A chilly breeze whispered by.

"Scarlet!"

Peter appeared in the street. He looked right and left, searching for someone. "Scarlet!"

Scarlet tried to make herself smaller, but she knew Peter would find her sooner or later.

"Scarlet!"

The girl felt hands grip her and she knew Peter had finally caught her. The young man pulled at her to stand up.

Scarlet yanked her arm away, refusing to show Peter her face. "Leave me alone." Her voice quavered. "Go back to Rosalind." It had only been through the raw strength of will that Scarlet had managed to keep the tears at bay, but one look at her face and Peter would know he'd hurt her.

"Scarlet, please. I'm sorry." Peter floundered for the right words. "I—I just got preoccupied. Scarlet, are you listening to me? Come on, get up."

"No."

"Scarlet," Peter pleaded. "Don't be mad. I told you, I'm sorry."

"Go away."

"Look, let's just forget about Rosalind, all right? What we should really be doing is helping Mar—"

The opening of a door interrupted Peter's words. Scarlet heard footsteps stop and chattering voices fall silent as they caught sight of the girl and the shepherd kneeling in front of her.

"Scarlet!" cried Martha. "You silly girl, where have you been? I—oh!"

"Now what's the matter with _her_?" the Prince sneered.

Scarlet shifted her position, looking up at the small crowd that had filed out of Ivan's house. Although everyone bore anxious expressions, none of them seemed eager to interfere in the conflict. They watched Scarlet and Peter intently, as if they were actors in a dramatic stage play.

"Scarlet?" Peter's voice was gentle.

Scarlet sighed. Over the years, she had found that when it came to Peter, it was extremely difficult for her to stay angry with him for long periods of time. Already, she was beginning to feel the last strands of her resentment dissolve.

Giving in, the girl stood up, brushing loose strands of hair from her face. "I'm fine," she muttered to no one in particular.

Josephine caught a hold of Scarlet. "Come," said Josephine cheerfully. "Look livelier!"

Ivan, Martha, and the rest of the group began heading towards the common house. Josephine followed, dragging Scarlet and Peter along, jabbering nonsense.

When the town square and the common house came into view, Ivan and the townsmen stopped to let Prince Coren take a look.

The Prince passed his judgement swiftly. "Plain," said Coren, looking unimpressed. "And that tree by the well in the center looks ridiculous. I've seen chicken houses that are better decorated."

"Ooh." Josephine clutched Scarlet and Peter closer to her as if for protection. "You shouldn't insult the tree. Not that tree. Even if you are the Fairy Prince." When Coren only stared at her, Josephine continued, "Haven't you heard the story?"

"No," said Coren flatly.

Josephine shook her head pityingly. "Everyone knows the story. Ivan will tell you the tale, won't you, Ivan?"

"Of course." Ivan smiled good-naturedly. "If that is what His Highness wishes."

Coren grimaced. The idea of hearing a story about vegetation didn't quite appeal to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Josephine answered for him.

"Ivan, what are you thinking?" cried Scarlet's mother. "Of course the Prince of Fairies would want to hear the tale! Anyone who lives in a mushroom palace would want to!"

"I do _not_ live in a mushroom palace," Coren said through clenched teeth. He stalked away, the group of townsfolk following.

As soon as he entered the common house, cheers of welcome greeted the Prince. Bright banners and fresh flowers decorated the place. A long table had been set up on a low platform at the far end of the room, while more tables and benches crowded the lower level. Most of the seats were already taken, and Scarlet wondered in dismay where her family was to sit.

"Your Highness." The town magistrate rushed forward, bowing so low he could have kissed Coren's boots. "This way." The balding man held out a pudgy hand towards the dais. "You, too," he added to Ivan and his family.

Ivan led the way through the maze of tables with Martha guiding Josephine. Peter turned to Scarlet. "We'll talk later," he said. "And cheer up." He edged down a narrow aisle to look for an empty seat.

_Whatever you do, don't sit next to Rosalind_, Scarlet thought.

Threading through the assembly, Scarlet climbed up to the podium and found a place between Josephine and—most unfortunately—Prince Coren.

The town magistrate motioned for everyone to be quiet and signaled for the wine to be served. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Prince's caravan guards and attendants had reappeared. They were now filing in to sit at the magistrate's table.

"Shh! Quiet down!" The town magistrate was trying unsuccessfully to settle the chattering townsfolk. Making shushing noises until spit was sailing in all directions, the magistrate seemed to be having a spasm or fit. At last, in exasperation, he stood up, waving his arms frantically. "I said, _quiet_!"

The common house became silent.

The town magistrate cleared his throat, a dignified smile now brushing his lips. He held his goblet in the air. "I would like to propose a toast," he declared, and everyone stood up as well, "to His Highness, Prince Coren for gracing us with his presence. And to this kingdom, Terrallis, of which he shall one day be King. May His Highness live long and happily, rule wisely and justly. Long live Coren, Crown Prince of Terrallis!"

"Long live Coren, Crown Prince of Terrallis!"

The magistrate drank his wine in one gulp. Everyone followed suit.

"Let the feast begin!" the magistrate proclaimed.

In front of the dais, two long benches stretched the width of the room, brimming with platters of food. The magistrate's servants brought some of the dishes up to the magistrate's table while the rest of the townsfolk helped themselves.

"Now, about the story," Josephine reminded. She grabbed a roasted chicken-wing and crammed it in her mouth, smearing the sauce all over her cheeks. "Go on, Ivan. Scarlet, Fairy Prince, listen well."

"I am _not_ the Fairy Prince," Coren said, his voice strained.

Ivan intervened before the talk could take an unpleasant turn. "I'll try to make the tale short." He smiled sympathetically at the Prince, then began:

"Long ago, when St. Jordan was no more than a stretch of grassland, a group of settlers arrived in this valley and decided to build a town here. The leader of this group was a brave man by the name of Jack Jordan, the famed Giant-Slayer.

"Now, although Jack and his followers desperately wanted to build a town to call their own, there was one problem: a dark wood grew near the site of their future town. From experience, Jack knew that the specters of the wood would soon give his people mischief.

"To deal with the creatures of the enchanted wood, Jack went to an old hermit for help. For a day and a night, Jack haggled with the old man, and in the end, a deal was struck. Some say Jack gave the old hermit a cow, others claim he traded away his first-born child, but whatever it was that Jack promised, the Giant-Slayer returned triumphant—a magical seed in his hand.

" 'Plant this seed where your town is to be,' the old hermit had told Jack. 'Water it. Nurture it. After three days and three nights, a tree will spring from the seed—an enchanted tree which shall protect your town from evil magic for all the generations to come.'

"Jack returned to his companions and did exactly as the old man had instructed. Sure enough, everything happened as the hermit had said. Needless to say, the tree has protected Jack's town ever since. It still stands today." Ivan paused dramatically. "And that is how St. Jordan came to be."

"Wonderful storytelling!" Josephine cried, clapping enthusiastically. "Simply genius!" She leaned forward to speak to Coren, her brown hair trailing in her food. "Heed my advice, Prince." Josephine's eyebrows wiggled oddly as she tried to lower them in what was supposed to be a grave expression. "Insulting magic trees almost always leads to misfortune."

Scarlet stole a glance at the Prince for his reaction and was astonished to see the look of interest glinting in his eyes.

"Amusing," Coren murmured. He spoke to Ivan. "Now, about that wood you mentioned...does it still stand today? Is there a story about the wood as well? If so, I want to hear it."

Ivan raised his eyebrows, and even Josephine looked surprised.

"You see," Coren explained, "I'm fairly certain the tale of the wood concerns my great-great-grandmother."

"Indeed?" Ivan took this chance to sneak a few bites of food. "As it turns out, there _is_ a story about the enchanted wood. I will gladly tell Your Highness the tale; however"—Ivan gave a crooked grin—"I beg Your Highness for a chance to eat after I'm done. My belly has started complaining, if you understand my meaning."

"Yes, of course." The Prince gave a vague wave of his hand. "Now get on with it. But skip the part about the princess, the spindle, and the hundred years sleep. I already know it."

"Your Highness has heard the tale before?"

"Only in vague bits."

"I see." Ivan rubbed his beard, a faraway look in his eyes. "Does Your Highness remember the rose briars that grew around the sleeping princess's castle?"

"Yes."

"Very good." Ivan's eyes twinkled. "Now, although the princess's castle has long crumbled to dust, the briars that once guarded it still exists. Over the years, the brambles have slowly transformed into a forest—the same forest that currently surrounds St. Jordan today."

"But what about the specters that lived in the wood during Jack Jordan's time?" Coren asked. "How did they get there?"

Ivan gave a faint smile. "Magical creatures are attracted to magical things, Your Highness. Since the Briarwood had once been under an enchantment, it was only a matter of time before fairy creatures came to dwell in it." Ivan's expression grew solemn. "Your Highness may think otherwise, but dark magic still lurk in the wood."

Someone cleared his throat. "Your Highness." It was the town magistrate. He shot Ivan a severe look, as if speaking too long to the Prince was an unforgivable crime. "Your Highness, forgive my intrusion, but may I inquire as to why you've stopped in St. Jordan? If you've come here for any special purpose, I will be glad to assist you in whatever you need."

Coren looked thoughtful. "Actually," he began slowly, "there is something I want."

The town magistrate's eyes glinted eagerly. "Your Highness?"

There was a pause before Coren finally said, "The thing I seek is a magic cloak. Have you ever heard of it?"  
  
Author's Note: Some of you may have noticed the bits and pieces from other fairy tales mentioned in this chapter, such as _Jack the Giant Killer_, _Jack and the Beanstalk_, _Sleeping Beauty_, and a hint of _Rumpelstiltskin_. If you got all four, good job!


	4. Where Is the Cloak?

Author's Note: The magic cloak is from _Little Red Riding Hood_. (Well, the cloak in the original story wasn't really magic...but you get the point). And now, I would like to thank everyone who's reviewed! I love you all!  
  
**Scarlet**  
  
By: RaspberryGirl  
  
"Magic cloak?" A glaze seemed to come over the town magistrate's eyes. The Prince's words weren't sinking in.

"Yes." Coren enunciated the word slowly as if he were speaking a foreign language. "You see, I'm on my way to the neighboring kingdom of Eden to meet with their princess, the lovely Arianna. However, before I left the castle, my advisors agreed that I needed something truly grand to impress Her Highness." Coren took a sip of his wine. "So they told me of a fantastic magic cloak, supposedly kept in a town called St. Jordan. Needless to say, I was convinced to go search for it."

"Magic cloak," the magistrate repeated, still sounding unsure of what Coren was talking about.

"That's right," said the Prince. He frowned. "I think I'm beginning to have doubts as to whether this cloak is really worth my time." He looked at the magistrate expectantly. "Well? Where is it? If you want money for it, I have plenty."

"Magic cloak..." the magistrate said again for the third time. He dabbed at the sweat on his brow with his sleeve. "I-I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I don't think I've ever heard of such a thing in St. Jordan."

"What?" Coren was incredulous. "Impossible! My advisors told me it was in St. Jordan, so it must be here."

Deciding to join the conversation, Scarlet suggested, "Maybe the cloak is in a neighboring town. Or a different St. Jordan? Besides, even if it were in this St. Jordan, you can't really expect to come here, demand the townsfolk hand it over, and receive the cloak right away."

"Can't I?" Coren asked testily.

"Young lady—" the magistrate sputtered, but the Prince cut him off.

"Have you heard of this magic cloak?" Coren asked Scarlet.

The girl thought for a moment. "I don't think so."

"Perhaps," offered the magistrate, "I could put up a notice asking anyone who has information regarding this cloak to step forward and report it to Your Highness? I know it's not much, but once again I assure Your Highness that I've personally never heard of such a cloak."

"Cloak?" Josephine perked up at the word. "Did I hear someone say 'cloak'?"

The magistrate, the Prince, and Scarlet all turned their attention on Josephine.

"Yes," Coren began slowly. "Do you know of such a thing?"

Josephine didn't reply. Her eyes had gone blank and her thoughts seemed to be trained on some distant memory, a bittersweet reminiscence. Suddenly, her face contorted into an expression of sadness and longing.

"Mother?" Scarlet reached out a hesitant hand to Josephine. The girl had never seen her mother like this. The wild energy that always seemed to surround Josephine had dissipated; the untamed light in her eyes was gone.

"Mother?"

Josephine blinked and her strange transformation broke instantly. She shook her head, putting a hand to her cheek as if to make sure this wasn't a dream. "I'm sorry, what were we talking about? Oh, yes! Something about a magic cloak?" Josephine said the word hurriedly as if she didn't want it lingering on her tongue. Tilting her head, Scarlet's mother studied the Prince. "I think I know what you're talking about."

Coren brightened. "Do you know where I can find it, then?" he asked eagerly, disregarding the fact that he was speaking to woman whose wits seemed to have gone begging.

Josephine furrowed her brows. Softly, she said, "I remember searching for it...a long time ago. The search was difficult...so very difficult. I looked in every place, in all sorts of weather, faced every obstacle...but no matter what I did, I couldn't find it. In the end..." Josephine faltered, looking lost and confused.

Scarlet filled in for her. "If you want to find the cloak," she said, "I suggest you speak with my grandmother."

"Of course!" The magistrate let out a cry. "Your Highness, if anyone would know of a magic cloak in St. Jordan, it'd be this girl's grandmother."

"Does the grandmother live in this town?" Coren asked, frustrated.

"Oh, no!" said Josephine perkily, seeming to have recovered. "She lives in the Briarwood."

"The Briarwood?" Coren recalled the story Ivan had told about the enchanted forest.

"Yes, yes." Josephine leaned towards the Prince, lowering her voice as if she were sharing a special secret with him. "If you want to meet her, I suggest you take Scarlet with you. Mother's getting old and paranoid. In fact, she's recently developed the nasty habit of turning any strangers who approach her cottage into toads. She doesn't trust anyone outside the family, you see." Josephine's voice was a hushed whisper now. "Ivan would accompany you, but he's going away on business, and although I'd love to guide you, I must admit I'm better at losing my way then finding it."

Coren fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. So far none of these people had given him a straight answer. They'd only managed to give him a headache. "So what you've all be telling me is that the cloak isn't in St. Jordan?"

"Yes," said Scarlet, Josephine, and the magistrate in unison.

"And," the Prince continued, "in order to find the cloak, I must seek out and speak with this...this...grandmother?"

"Remember to bring Scarlet," Josephine said. "Unless you want to end up a you-know-what."

"Ah, of course," the Prince amended sarcastically. "The toad-turning grandmother who lives in the woods. She sounds quite pleasant."

Josephine giggled. "You have no idea."

Coren sighed. "Very well," he announced heavily. "Tomorrow morning, I shall set out for the Briarwood." He turned to Scarlet. "And you're coming with me."

---------------  
  
Scarlet stood outside, glaring at the morning sun. She'd slept fitfully last night on the floor of Martha's room, having been forced to give up her own to the Prince. The sky was a pale cerulean, smeared with thin gray clouds. Some of them threatened to blot out the sunshine.

Maybe she'd get lucky and it'd start raining again.

She doubted it.

Voices floated from behind and Scarlet turned to see the Prince and his entourage stepping out of her house. Martha and Josephine followed. Ivan had left for the next market town earlier in the morning.

"Your Highness," the housekeeper was saying, "I wish you a safe journey."

Scarlet shifted her weight from one foot to the other in irritation.

"Scarlet, dear, I wish you a safe journey as well," Martha added. She approached the girl and hugged her.

"Say hello to Grandmother for me," Josephine chirped.

"Mother! Martha!" Scarlet decided to try one more appeal of protest even though none of her other pleas had worked last night. "I don't want to go! Why can't the Prince take his guards with him instead? He'd be safe. Grandmother can't be that cruel!"

But Josephine was shaking her head. "Of course she is, you silly. You haven't visited her in so long you've forgotten what she's like! Oh, Scarlet, you know we can't have the Prince turned into a toad. What would the King and Queen and the nice people at the palace say?"

"The King's dead," Martha whispered.

"You know what I mean," Josephine laughed.

Deciding that asking her mother for help would be useless, Scarlet desperately turned to Martha. "Martha, please! I have chores to do! The mending! I was supposed to finish that today! And who will help you with the house tasks once I've gone?"

Martha looked amused. "The day you worry about your chores is a blessed day indeed. But I think I can manage."

"But—"

"Are you quite done?" the Prince cut in impatiently. "I'm tired of waiting for you."

Scarlet ground her teeth. Coren had said they would depart at sunrise but _she_'d stood out here waiting for him for almost the entire morning.

"Let's be off," the Prince said briskly.

Josephine pulled Scarlet aside to have a few last words. Taking her daughter by her shoulders she said, "You know the way to Grandmother's house?"

Scarlet nodded.

"You've brought enough supplies with you?"

"Yes." Scarlet didn't doubt there were enough things in her sack to last them a week in the forest. It made sense. Martha had packed it.

"Good girl." Josephine smiled. "Be careful."

"I will."

"Girl!" the Prince barked. He had already begun moving down the street. "Hurry up, can't you? We still need to fetch the horses!"

Scarlet scrambled after him, and Josephine shouted, more loudly than she needed to, "No horses—or you'll be sorry!"

The Prince continued towards the common house.

"Wait!" Scarlet said. She reached Coren, falling into step beside him. "Where are you going? Didn't you hear what my mother just said?"

Coren halted abruptly, his eyes flashing. "Why should I listen to what she says?" he asked harshly. "She is only a madwoman."

Scarlet tensed. "My mother is harmless."

"Harmless!" the Prince scoffed. "By listening to her, I've already been degraded to this! I, the Crown Prince of Terrallis, walking on foot like any other commoner, travelling without attendants or guards into a dark forest, probably full of wild beasts, with a mere peasant girl!" He broke off, breathing hard.

"Well, this 'peasant girl' doesn't find this trip any more enjoyable than you do!" Scarlet countered. "But there's a difference between coming back alive and coming back in multiple pieces."

A muscle in the Prince's cheek twitched, but he didn't reply. Instead, he whirled around and began his determined stride towards the common house once more.

"My mother may not understand many things," Scarlet called, "but when it comes to the Briarwood, she is seldom wrong!" She ran after Coren, the heavy pack of supplies straining against her shoulders.

They'd reached the town square by now. Scarlet stopped under Jack Jordan's tree to catch her breath, watching as the Prince headed towards the common house. "Prince Coren!" she yelled. "Your Highness! Coren!"

The final cry got the Prince's attention. He turned and scowled. "Remember your place, girl. You are to address me as 'Your Highness,' or 'Your Excellency,' or—"

"I'm warning you one last time." Scarlet strode from the shade of the tree to Coren. "If you're taking horses, then you're going alone. And—in case you need reminding—without me, you'll never find Grandmother's house, much less your way out of the Briarwood."

The Prince looked vexed. "What I don't understand is why both you and your mother are so adamant about leaving the steeds behind. Riding through the forest would take less time than walking."

"Not when it comes to the Briarwood," Scarlet said darkly.

"What's so special about this Briarwood?"

Scarlet's eyes became a shadowy green. "Since you're familiar with the tale of the sleeping princess, you must know that the prince who finally broke the spell was but one of many who tried to save her. And you must also know that those who failed died a horrible death. Most of them perished at the thorns of the rose briars." Scarlet's expression became hard. "The Briarwood is alive. During the time it guarded the princess's castle, it developed a taste for flesh."

Coren paled, and Scarlet continued, "It's dangerous enough as it is to enter the Briarwood, but to bring horses...well, that's like setting mice into a snake's lair. The forest will view them as easy prey and come after us for sure. But if we go on foot, we can evade the Briarwood's traps and come back alive."

Coren mulled over these words. He pierced Scarlet with his golden eyes, as if part of him disbelieved her tale and that by staring at her face long enough, he would eventually ferret out the truth.

But it was Coren who wavered first. He broke from Scarlet's gaze and stared off to the side, his expression tense. "Fine," he said. "Whatever you like." Disgruntled and a little unnerved, the Prince reluctantly followed the girl as she walked through the town square and past the common house, following the main road to the edge of St. Jordan where the Briarwood lay waiting.  
  
Author's Note: For some unexplainable reason, I just had this sudden vision of Orlando Bloom as Coren. Oo Maybe next time, I'll have an epiphany of who'll be Scarlet.


	5. The Briarwood, Part One

Author's Note: I read through _Scarlet_ again and decided it needed a little fixing. So I edited the entire thing.

**Scarlet**

By: RaspberryGirl

Shortly after Scarlet and Coren passed the last house of St. Jordan, they reached a barren hillside, consisting only of rock and dirt. It was an easy climb; the slope was gentle, and the "hill" wasn't much taller than Coren himself.

At the top, there was a level of flat land where the Briarwood grew. Sparse patches of dry grass dotted the ground here and there, clustering more abundantly around the edges of the forest. Nervously, the Prince looked around. A mass of thorny tangles that was the Briarwood reached out to him. The air was heavy with the odor of age and decay, mixed with an eerie silence.

"Come on." Scarlet beckoned to him, then stepped into the Briarwood without hesitation.

The forest grew thick and wild, like a mass of weeds, leaving very little room for a human to squeeze through, much less a human on horseback. A smug smile spread across Scarlet lips, and she glanced back at Coren. So far, he was keeping up, ignoring the thorns that scratched his face, pushing away the skeletal branches that clawed at his hair and clothing.

_Humph_, thought Scarlet. She turned her attention to finding the small iron poles her father had placed among the bramble long ago. They marked a trail.

For the rest of the morning and possibly half the afternoon, Scarlet and Coren traveled on at a steady pace. The deeper they ventured into the forest, the lusher it began to grow. Fringes of green tinted the tops of the thorn-trees and an increasing number roses began to bloom. The perfume gradually began to overpower the musty smell of centuries, until the scent was almost suffocating. And the Briarwood still pressed against Scarlet and Coren, forcing both of them to constantly swat away low-hanging thorn limbs or circle around an overgrown hedge.

At last, when Scarlet sensed that Coren was about to collapse from fatigue and an empty belly if they trudged any further, they arrived at a small clearing filled with stones.

"We'll stop here and eat a little before we move on," the girl announced. She settled herself on one of the rocks and began unpacking her sack, offering Coren a loaf of bread and a bit of cheese. Without a word of thanks, the Prince snatched up the food as if he were a pauper who had just come across a piece of gold and flitted away. Scarlet scowled at him.

"What?" he snapped. "Why are you staring?"

"Never mind."

The silly extravagance of Coren's clothing caught Scarlet's eye. It was the kind of attire—all gold and glittery—that ballad princes wore. It was too lavish for this journey, too lavish even for a royal hunting expedition.

"My clothes," Coren muttered, following her gaze. "They're ruined."

Indeed, there were many rips and tears in his fine garments, especially about the sleeves. A pink scratch extended from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth, and a leaf in his hair stuck out comically.

The corner of Scarlet's mouth twitched, but she fought the urge to smile. "We'd better get going." She stood.

Another hour or so dragged by as the Prince following Scarlet. Roses of every red tint and shade grew abundantly on both sides of the trail now, their fallen petals making a velvet carpet on the ground. A silence still brooded over the Briarwood like a storm, but once in a while, there were noises. A trill that was too sweet to have come from a bird, a rippling laugh too silvery to have come from a brook. The sounds made Scarlet's skin tingle.

All of a sudden, the Prince burst out, "What kind of grandmother lives in such a place? This wood is cursed!"

"What makes you say that?" asked Scarlet, up ahead.

"There are thorns that would strangle you, roses that would smother you. And who knows what other evils lurk in the shadows beyond? Is your grandmother fearless? Or just ignorant of these things?"

"My grandmother lives here for her own purposes."

"What is she, then?" cried Coren. "A sorceress? A witch who hides from the townsfolk?"

Scarlet shot Coren a particularly cold glare over her shoulder. "I guess you could call her a witch. Or 'sorceress' if that pleases you. It doesn't matter. Such names are what you always call people you don't understand. Or those who understand more than you."

The Prince opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came to mind. He caught up with Scarlet who had been about six paces ahead. The girl had stopped walking, staring at something to her left with a perplexed expression.

Author's Note: Ah! Don't stop now! Chapter five isn't over yet! There's more! (Due to updating conflicts, I split this chapter in two). Oh yeah, I think Katie Holmes (is that how you spell it?) would make a good Scarlet.


	6. The Briarwood, Part Two

**Scarlet**

By: RaspberryGirl

Not something. Some_one_.

A hunched figure sat in a clearing just off the trail. Her frame was small and fragile; barely enough flesh seemed to cover her bones. The woman's skin was a mass of wrinkles like the creases in a coarse brown dress, and her translucent white hair stood out against the drab colors of her rags. Watery blue eyes peered at Scarlet and Coren.

"What's a beggar doing here?" muttered the Prince with distaste.

"Oh, my goodness." The crone's voice was like the creaking of an old iron gate that needed fixing. "Come closer, my dears. Yes, closer."

Scarlet took a hesitant step into the clearing. "Is there some way we can help you, Grandmother?" Of course, the girl was only calling the woman "grandmother" out of courtesy.

"I seem to have lost my way," the hag replied. "Won't you please help me?" The old woman got to her feet unsteadily and Scarlet rushed to assist her, supporting her with one arm. The woman was filthy and reeked of spoiled cabbages, but Scarlet did her best not to flinch away. "I'm sorry," the crone apologized. "It's just that I'm so old. My limbs aren't what they used to be. And I feel so tired; I haven't eaten in days." She looked at Scarlet hopefully.

The girl gave the old woman a large piece of bread, causing the crone to cackle gleefully. "Why, how generous of you!"

"Where did you come from?" Scarlet questioned. "How did you get here?"

"It's a rather pathetic tale," the hag said mournfully. "I simply wandered in here one day and never quite managed to wander out." She turned her head in Coren's direction. Her eyes glittered sharply, cunningly.

"Young man."

Coren almost jumped. The old woman hobbled towards him, with the help of Scarlet. She smiled, showing her two remaining teeth. They were crooked and rotten.

"Come here, my sweet. What are you afraid of?"

The Prince didn't move. Scarlet felt her muscles tighten and a sinking feeling crept into her stomach. Coren stared at the old woman, transfixed.

Those eyes. No longer dull, they glittered like sequins in the sun.

Before Scarlet could stop him, Coren sprung forward and yanked her away from the old hag. "We're leaving," he said hoarsely. He hurried off, almost running, dragging the struggling girl with him.

"Wait! What are you—hey, are you even listening to me?" Scarlet dug her nails into the Prince's wrist.

Coren cried out in surprise and let go. His glower could have curdled fresh milk. "What was that for?"

"I don't enjoy being towed along like a disobedient dog," was the reply. Angrily, Scarlet whirled and dashed back to the old woman's clearing—and gasped. "She's gone!" Guilt laced through the girl's head, making her dizzy. She knew it. She knew she should have warned him...

But it wasn't _her_ fault the Prince was an idiot!

"Now look what you've done! You've ruined everything!" Scarlet yelled. She stormed passed the Prince, too angry with herself to care she was being unreasonable.

- - -

Scarlet let out a shriek of frustration. It was the first sound she'd let out all day after meeting the old woman. The sun was setting, washing the Briarwood in thin red light. The thorns seemed to be drenched with blood.

Without warning, Scarlet veered left, leaving the trail, and just as she expected, she found herself in a familiar clearing. Scarlet could barely hold back another cry of exasperation. The girl flung her sack on the ground and sank down next to it gloomily.

They had been traveling the entire day, following the trail Ivan had made. Scarlet knew it well and it had never led her astray before.

"What's going on?" Coren demanded. He stood at the entrance of the clearing, arms folded, keeping his distance from Scarlet as if she were a dangerous animal who might attack him in any moment.

"You may as well sit down," Scarlet advised. "We're not going any further tonight."

Strangely, Coren found Scarlet's answer somewhat encouraging since it was the first thing she'd said to him after meeting the old woman. He sat where he stood.

"Why? What happened? Are we close to your grandmother's house yet?"

"We should have reached it by now," Scarlet said. She shook her head. "Haven't you noticed? We've been going in circles."

"You mean, we're lost?" Coren's eyes bulged. _Lost_. The word seemed synonymous with death.

"This is the same clearing where we met the old woman. We passed it five times today. Don't you recognize it?" Bitterly, Scarlet spread out her arms. "And you know what? All of this—yes, all of it—is completely and entirely your fault."

"My fault?" Coren echoed, his temper flaring. He could feel the blood rushing to his face. "_My_ fault?"

"Yes," said Scarlet. "And do you want to know why? Well, I'll tell you. That old woman—"

"This has nothing to do with the old woman!" interrupted Coren.

"Yes, it does. It has everything to do with her."

"She wasn't what she seemed," Coren argued. "She was a specter. Your father said the wood was full of them. Yes, the hag disguised herself and tried to lure us into her trap. I saved you, you ungrateful girl, and all you have to show for it is by losing your temper!"

There was silence as Scarlet considered these words. Finally, she said, quite calmly, "You're right. I suppose I should thank you if what you said was correct. But it's not."

"What are you babbling about?" Coren shouted. "That hag was hiding something! She's probably not even human!"

"Of course, she wasn't," said Scarlet.

Coren swallowed, his face turning pale. "What? You knew?"

Scarlet nodded. "You forget that I've been in the Briarwood hundreds of times, ever since I was a child."

"Then why..."

"The old woman wasn't a specter," Scarlet explained, "she was a fairy. Haven't you heard stories? Fairies are always lurking about in a wood in disguise, testing humans. I was just playing along. You should have, too."

Coren was too baffled to think. He sputtered, "You—you could have said something!"

"I thought you would be too afraid to interfere."

The Prince's fingers curled into a fist. "Are you calling me a coward?"

"I didn't call you anything."

The sun sunk into its bed in the western part of the world, and a wave of darkness descended on the Briarwood. Scarlet thought she heard a muffled hiss not far off. Quickly, she gathered twigs and stacked them in a pile, making sure to arrange rocks around her handiwork. Rummaging through her sack, she found two pieces of flint and soon had a bright fire burning.

Scarlet relaxed a bit. Now where was Coren? As much as he grated on her nerves, she didn't want him out of her sight in the Briarwood. That could be fatal. Besides, Coren _was_ a prince of Terallis, even if he did have the personality of a mule.

"If you're going to sit there all night," Scarlet called out, "you're going to freeze to death." She couldn't see the Prince. In fact, she could barely see anything that was more than three paces from the fire. It was one of the oddities of the Briarwood. The thorns seemed to absorb firelight like parched plants sucking in water.

When she got not response, Scarlet sighed, wondering if Coren was having a tantrum. She tried a different tactic. "If you're going to sit there all night, the Briarwood will eat you alive."

Scarlet sensed a jerk of movement. "That's 'Your Highness,' " said Coren's voice, but he didn't appear.

"Very well," Scarlet said compliantly. Since concern and warning hadn't coaxed him out, perhaps a little praise would work. "I must admit, your eyes must be quite keen, Your Highness. You saw right through that old woman. That's quite impressive."

"Well, at least now you know I'm not stupid if you had any doubts before," muttered the Prince. He emerged from the darkness, his whole body rigid with apprehension, and sat down on the other side of the fire with as much dignity as he could.

Scarlet shook her head. The tinge of fear was still fresh on Coren's face. He had been afraid and yet he'd stayed in the darkness of the Briarwood until he'd gotten what he'd wanted.

_I guess it's courage_, Scarlet mused, _in a foolish, childish way_.

The girl took a slice of bread and an apple from the sack, then nudged the bag in Coren's direction. She felt drained all of a sudden. Weariness had finally melted her bones and made her numb. She listened to the soothing crackle of the twigs as she ate her food.

Coren remained still, staring into the fire. "What did the fairy do?"

Scarlet stretched out on the ground, using the supply pack as a pillow since the Prince didn't seem to be hungry. "I bet she's angry because you didn't treat her kindly when she was an old woman," the girl mumbled. "Fairies like that sort of thing: Young people showing compassion for their elders. I'm guessing she cast a spell on the trail, but it should be normal again in the morning." She yawned. "We should take turns making sure the fire doesn't die out in the night. You take first watch, Your Highness."

Coren twitched and threw a twig into the hungry flames in annoyance. "Impertinent girl," Scarlet heard him say. "She gives me a headache."

Something rustled in the darkness, making a noise like an angry, hissing cat. Scarlet's eyes shot open and she jolted up, harboring the unsettling feeling that the Briarwood was writhing like a pit of snakes. Coren stood in front of her, his hand on his sword hilt.

"Listen," he whispered. "Do you hear that?"

More serpentine hisses followed before a whistling screech tore the air in two. Briar vines shot out of the surrounding wood, slithering so close that Scarlet had to scramble back to keep them from touching her.

"The Briarwood!" Scarlet gasped, standing. "It's coming after us!"

"Don't move!" warned Coren, his sword drawn. His eyes followed the moving bramble with a hawk's gaze as the vines wound around the clearing. Beads of perspiration formed on his face.

A heavy, sour stench permeated the air. Scarlet pressed her hand against her mouth and nose, gagging. She was sure this was what ancient catacombs smelled like—dust and death. A pale object glowed faintly in the dark. When Scarlet realized what it was, a prickling shiver crawled down her spine, and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth like a seal to keep her dinner from forcing its way back out.

Caught in the sliding, snake-like branch were the bones of a human arm.

_Many men perished trying to save the sleeping beauty_.

Scarlet turned pale, her insides sinking to the floor. For the first time, a spike of fear pierced her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She swallowed and looked at Coren's sword, flashing silver in the moonlight.

"Stop!" Scarlet shouted. She tugged at Coren's arm in panic. "Don't strike! Only fire can harm the Briarwood!"

But even as she said these words, four vines sped towards the girl and the Prince, attacking in all directions. Scarlet saw Coren dive towards her. His body slammed into hers and they toppled to the ground, a backlash of wind striking them as the branches sliced the air where they had stood a moment before.

Breathing hard, Scarlet sat up, shoving Coren off her. She looked around. The thorn vines had fallen back. The air creaked and moaned like it was under some invisible weight.

Then, like a stream of morning light, an ethereal song descended. It drifted delicately into the clearing, softly echoing. Someone was humming.

The briar branches started to shake, twisting and thrashing. Their tips started to crumble and turn to ash. Howling and squealing in protest, they disappeared back into the wood as quickly as they came.

A dozen floating lights accompanied the song as it grew stronger. Someone was drawing near.

"Ah," said a voice that reminded Scarlet of a hundred wind chimes. "So we meet again, children. This must be Fate."  
  
Author's Note: At last, the fun has finally begun! It took me five chapters, but I'm just not used to these short chapter lengths, that's all!


End file.
